


Just Breathe

by FBIEpidemic



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:18:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FBIEpidemic/pseuds/FBIEpidemic
Summary: Thinking about making this longer but I don't honestly know how to spend this? Any ideas?





	1. Chapter 1

Chloe hates the first time her lips touch Lucifer’s.

She had imagined it. In the moments caught between patrol or a stake-out, she would think about the warmth of his arms. They would be at the beach or at home. They would have drinks in their hands, their inhibitions lowered, and she would be able to taste the alcohol on his breath. She would grab him by the perfect white t-shirt and drag him close enough to ravish. 

Or they after a case. Adrenaline making it so that all she can think about is his mouth. They would be high with the thrill of a case just solved. By the time their bodies hit a solid surface their breaths would have already mixed and swallowed as their lips locked.

Not like this. She never even thought about this. He was supposed to put one of his too big hand on her shoulder and hold her against the wall. He was supposed to kiss back and bite at her skin. She was supposed to grip his clothes to try and remain physically standing.

But not this.

She hates it.

She hates it.

Cold, alone, and silent as she tries to think through the too loud noise coming from her own head. She tries to focus on the- 27… 28... 29.... 30. “Breath Lucifer. Breath.”

His mouth is already cold. Too cold because he jumped over the edge of a peer of in the middle of winter in some town that… that she has no idea how to get out of. This isn’t home and they aren’t safe. 

“His temperature runs higher than most peoples,” she doesn’t know what more to tell the paramedics as they cart him away. If she tells them why it is that his body regulates a normal temperature of 120 then she’s probably going to end up in the psych ward but if she doesn’t explain….

“It’ll be okay ma’am.” Some kid puts his hand on her shoulder but he doesn’t know that she just saved her best friend's life. That the very first time that she ever got to get close to the man she loves she had to restart his heart. He couldn’t have known. It’s not his fault. 

“Yeah, right.”


	2. Pixie Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about making this longer but I don't honestly know how to spend this? Any ideas?

He is original sin. Before Cain bashed his brother’s skull in. Before Eve sunk her teeth into that apple. Lucifer. 

He was supposed to taste like smoke. His body was supposed to intoxicate her conscious mind. He is evil. The embodiment of corruption, sin, everything that she is supposed to hate and yet…

If he is sin, then she is a sinner.

“Worst-case scenario?” The doctor is standing in front of her, his arms crossed against his chest, thinking. She mirrors him, her hands crossed protectively. His news can’t hurt her if she’s barred off emotionally. “He never wakes up. The damage to his brain was too significant. Best case?” He sucks his top lip into his mouth,” he wakes up and has minimal amnesia.”

She scratches at her fingertips, she has to do something. At least, shake her head or cry but all she can think is that he didn’t taste like brimstone and fire and rebellion. He felt like cold fingers running up her back. He was nothing at all.

“Our visitor’s hours were over some time ago but it would ease your mind, if it brings you any comfort at all, I’m sure I can sneak you back to see your husband.”

Husband. Right. They were undercover. 

She was so mad when Lucifer sneakily added that detail. They were already on the road though, leaving California for whatever frozen hell she’s now in. Passenger’s seat he grinned and produced two rings,” Detective, I do believe you’ll be needing this.”

She’d yelled at him. Accused him of having no sense of dignity, that his games never seemed to end. But when she watched, unironically frozen in her very spot as she watched his long body dive into the choppy waters of the bay. There were no games. Just a little girl, one that they had aimed to help, being sent over the side as her murderer took the plunge to end it for the both of them. 

No games at all.

“Yeah, please.”

Trixie is at home. Dan isn’t going to tell her anything until Lucifer wakes up… which he will do. Only then will Dan bring Trixie. For now, Chloe is going to live off of the clothes that she packed for the trip, which should be plenty of clothes. So she’s alone. 

On the bed, the bed that should make his large body look even larger has dehumanized him. Nothing about the man laying on the bed gives the impression of the larger than life man who calls himself Lucifer. This man has no crooked grins, he doesn’t invade her personal space and make sexual jokes. This man is dying. This man is frail and weak. She doesn’t know this man.

His mouth is pulled, contorted by pieces of tape holding the ventilator to his mouth. His lanky arms are still by his sides, his hands covered in bruises from the cold. He appears broken. Like a marionette without anyone there to move him. 

She expects him to open his eyes, for the ventilator to fall from his mouth as he flashes her with that too cocky smile. His eyes will sparkle with that ‘I know something you don’t know’ pride and he’ll say her name. Not Chloe, never Chloe. _Detective_.

He’s got this way of saying it, like Detective is the next best thing to _sweetheart_ or _baby_. 

“Will he…” she can’t force the question past her lips. His pain is too much. She can feel it, it consumes her and for several broken moments her heart is beating in his chest. Together they ring out through the room, a clock that only seems to be counting down, as their heartbeat is measured through electric beeps. 

The doctor is behind her, his voice soft but confident. “I can’t tell you one hundred percent but my hopes are high. I believe your husband will wake up, ma’am. You just need a little faith.” 

She looks back the man, her eyes looking him up and down. His dark black hair and beard, he’s going grey around his ears and chin. He’s probably her age, married too. 

He smiles, a happy little smile,” and as my four year old would say a little pixie dust, too.” 

She shares his smile. It’s the least she can do. If she can’t have faith in Lucifer than she can have faith in this man’s child. Children are most obscure, vigilante, and so brave. She believes with a much of her heart that remains her own that something will come of this. 

Something is better than nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be writing college essays but instead, I've taken three personality test and written this! I still have no idea what to write about for those damn essays and now on top of that, I have an English paper due too! God, I love school!


End file.
